


Ride me like a Harley

by Lucivar



Series: praying for love in a lap dance [2]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Lap Dances, POV Jughead Jones, Sexual Humor, Sexual Tension, Southside Serpent Jughead Jones, Stripper Betty Cooper, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:14:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26639404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucivar/pseuds/Lucivar
Summary: Cheryl bets Jughead that he will die for wanting to crawl all over her newest dancer. He arrogantly shakes on it, because he’s never lost his mind over any damn woman.Needless to say, it’s the most expensive (but rewarding) lap dance of his precious life.
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones, Jughead Jones & Cheryl Blossom & Sweet Pea
Series: praying for love in a lap dance [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1929679
Comments: 44
Kudos: 120
Collections: 8th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees





	Ride me like a Harley

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cherlynne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherlynne/gifts), [DreamWalkLady](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamWalkLady/gifts).



> Thanks to **Cherlynne** for a prompt that was impossible to ignore. I hope Jughead is crazy enough for Betty for your liking!

“Jughead, I know that you’ve been away for quite some time, but this establishment has classed up way too much since you let Cheryl take over from Tall Boy,” Sweet Pea complains, but his voice is laced with humour. 

In the few months that Jughead and half the Serpents had been out of town, getting rid of the Ghoulie scourge that had blighted Greendale for too long, the whole flavour of Riverdale had changed. 

Jughead left Sweet Pea and Toni in charge of guarding Riverdale and with that came the impossible juggernaut that was Cheryl Blossom, who had taken it upon herself to make “a few itty bitty design changes” to the White Wyrm. 

As he looks around now, it’s no longer the dive bar he left behind, but rather has a clean albeit grungy atmosphere with the kind of low lighting that makes people want to touch themselves. Admittedly, it’s quite weird because the White Wyrm has always been dank and harsh, filled with gang members and people itching for a fight. Yet somehow, Cheryl has almost transformed the violence into heady, dangerous aesthetic of its own. This transition has attracted so many more women, all of whom are keen to flirt with the possibility of getting down and dirty with any hot Serpent who deigns to look their way. 

As he notices the hungry eyes of the female patrons, he realises that he is indeed on the fucking menu now. Both literally and figuratively. Or whatever, because those words are now synonymous.

He smirks in their direction; _of course_ he is getting laid tonight, but it’s his bar, it’s his town so he’s going to have a little fun playing the field. 

“Well at least Cheryl runs a tight ship. Unlike Tall Boy, who can’t manage his way out of a fucking paper bag, wet or otherwise,” Jughead points out with a grin.

“Is wetter supposed to be easier?” Fangs cuts in, head tilted to the side and eyes closed as if he’s imagining two semi-naked women tearing their way out of paper bags. 

Jughead smirks, “Fangs, if you have to ask, I’m going to assume you’re still a virgin.”

Sweet Pea snorts loudly and bangs his hand on the bar, “Fuck, Jug! I have missed you around here. The calibre of wit has been sorely lacking.”

“Hey!” Fangs interrupts, indignantly, “You all know I’m a Serpent for my fists of fury and mad mechanic skills.”

“Don’t forget your smouldering good looks and purity,” Jughead jokes and looks around the room, “There’s got to be a cougar or two around here who will gladly break you in for the chance to get your snake inside her.”

Sweet Pea splutters a laugh, eyes filling with tears, “Yeah, Fangs, let me buy you a lap dance tonight alright?”

“Ahh beautiful fucking economics, my sweet Fangs, you should say yes to that golden offer. Then you don’t have to rely on just your smouldering good looks to get a bit of action,” Jughead quips. 

Sweet Pea looks like he is biting the inside of his mouth to prevent himself from cackling aloud. 

“Speaking of changes,” Jughead returns to the previous subject, looking around the venue with renewed interest. “Is it just me or have my strippers gotten sexier?”

“Sorry babe, it’s not you, it’s all me,” Cheryl breezes in, tossing her red hair and stepping in between them in a red, clingy dress. Jughead has to give credit where it’s due: Cheryl always looks hot. The way she comports herself makes him so glad he chose her to run the White Wyrm. She seems to fluctuate between femme fatale, mama bear and glossy, red tease. “I like my women to drive everyone wild, including me.”

“Ahh Cheryl my dear, you’ve got the right – ah - _je ne sais quoi_ \- to run this place,” Jughead commends her with a regal wave of his hand.

“That maple-scented dominatrix spirit?” Sweet Pea supplies with a smirk.

Cheryl looks delighted with this summary of her skills and crows, “Just don’t tell Toni, please, because she thinks she’s in charge.”

“Oh, we all know that Toni is putty in your hands,” Jughead snorts and then turns to Sweet Pea in excitement, “Yeah, that’s the fucking word, Sweet!”

“I can’t believe you forgot the word “dominate” man, you’ve been out of the fucking game for too long,” Sweet Pea jokes. “Should I buy you a pity lap dance as well so you don’t have to pretend you know what you’re doing?”

Jughead grins and stretches languidly against the bar. “Nah Sweet, I think I’m going to steer clear from mixing business with pleasure, as the old adage warns.”

“Oh?” Sweet Pea smirks at him.

Jughead responds arrogantly, “Yeah, I’m going to let one of those young hotties over there have the unique pleasure of climbing me.”

He nods his head towards the giggling and ogling “young hotties” who all scream in delight when he smirks at them.

Cheryl snorts, “What, you mean the Serpent King special? When you’re furious, demanding and relentless in bed?” He looks at her in amusement and she rolls her eyes and says with a sharp smile, “Yeah, we all talk about your slutty ways, Jughead.”

Not that he’s slept with _that_ many women, but still. 

“Hey!” Sweet Pea interrupts, coming to his defence, “No slut shaming in this holy place of worship!” 

Cheryl gives him the finger, still grinning. 

Jughead retorts with a smile on his face, “Pray tell, how the fuck should I be in bed, Cheryl?”

“Maybe like, try to be a bit gentler and not so full of yourself?” Cheryl says, not unreasonably. 

The truth is, he knows _exactly_ how physically satisfied all the women he has slept with are, but from him, there is never a chance of emotional release. He knows he is cold and arrogant and it drives every woman wild, but he doesn’t want a fucking _connection._ Sex is about the release and nothing more. He’s too smart to believe that he’s going to discover love through his dick.

Sweet Pea barks a laugh. “Jughead being gentle? Cheryl, my love, I’m not sure if you fully listened to what you just said.”

Cheryl rolls her eyes. “Not everyone wants a furious fuck, you know.”

Jughead shrugs without care. “Then I guess they shouldn’t sleep with a gang leader Cheryl. Not my fucking problem.”

“Those girls all know exactly what they are getting in to,” Sweet Pea nods. “Our man’s reputation precedes him.”

Jughead smirks. “Yeah, ain’t no way I’m getting all soft and wide-eyed for a woman, seriously. I’ve never been in affection, let alone love.”

“Yeah, we are here for a good time not a long time,” agrees Sweet Pea grins.

Jughead concurs, “So I’m going to give one of those hotties a whirlwind up against a wall and we will all be fucking satisfied, and then I will have breakfast alone and in peace, like normal.”

“Eh. Your bachelor life sounds way less interesting than a morning slow fuck before eating breakfast from each other’s breasts,” Cheryl yawns exaggeratedly.

“Whatever, I’ll stick to my hot couple of hours and you can lick maple syrup off Toni’s tits or whatever weird breakfast porn you’re into.”

Cheryl laughs and tosses her hair dramatically. One day, she’s going to blind someone with her hair flicks. “Anyway, those girls are not as gorgeous as my dancers, Serpent King.”

Jughead shrugs and folds his arms carelessly. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Cheryl looks way too amused as she says, “I have no doubt that you will judge. You’re a sassy little bitch. But I do think I have a dancer that you’re going to lose your mind over.”

Jughead snorts in disbelief. Never in his whole fucking life has he _lost his mind_ over a woman. He’s not that fucking _basic_. He’s no Archie Andrews.

“I call bullshit, Cheryl,” Jughead retorts with relish, “I’m fucking immovable.”

Cheryl grins like the Cheshire cat and licks her lips in excitement. “If you’re that sure of yourself,” she croons and leans in to whisper into his ear. He can smell her expensive perfume as she gets into his personal space and it’s cloying. “Let’s wager on it.”

Jughead’s jaw juts out in a display of pure arrogance. He knows that this is a clash of the alphas: Cheryl Blossom versus Jughead Jones and he’ll be damned if he backs down from any tussle for dominance with Cheryl fucking Blossom.

“How much?” He asks, a shit-eating smile alighting his face. 

“One thousand big ones that says you die for wanting to fuck her,” Cheryl smirks back, folding her arms. 

“You fucking kidding me, here Red?” Jughead snorts in disbelief. “Those are crazy stakes. I thought this was a friendly bet?”

“Aww little Serpent King,” Cheryl mocks him in a horrible baby voice that grates on his every nerve and cements whole bet in his mind, “Are you scared you won’t be able to keep it in your pants for a stripper?”

“Fuck no,” Jughead says emphatically and dismissively, “I’ll shake on that action now.”

Cheryl tilts her head to the side and arches her eyebrow delicately. “Are you sure you don’t want to wait until you see the girl to which I am referring?”

“Nah,” Jughead insists, his own cockiness emboldening him. “I’ve said it before and I will say it again: no woman can charm this snake.”

Cheryl’s smirk turns razor sharp and she holds out her manicured hand. “Oh Jones, I am going to so look forward to rubbing your face in this afterwards. Mark my words.”

Jughead steels himself and holds Cheryl’s eyes as they shake hands. 

“Just out of curiosity, Cher-babe,” Sweet Pea says, intrigued, “Who is it?”

Cheryl laughs, “No way am I’m telling you Sweet, you’ll ruin it for him before she comes on stage. Plus, don’t you know your own man’s porn preferences?”

“Hey!” Jughead exclaims, “Have you been through my browser history?”

“It’s fucking obviously written over your face, you moron.” Cheryl rolls her eyes. “Honestly boys are so dumb and easy to swindle.”

“Fuck off Cher,” Sweet Pea grins and complains, “Aww, you know I won’t mess with a bet, babe!”

Cheryl snorts, “Let it play out now, Sweet.” Her eyes flick to Jughead and she grins widely. “And let me torture this idiot when he loses his mind over her.”

She turns on patent red heel to leave but stops herself momentarily, “Oh Jughead, don’t cry foul with me afterwards, because I gave you plenty of leniency with this.” She motions between them, both eyebrows raised. 

“Ah whatever Cheryl, go fuck with someone else for a while,” Jughead waves her off flippantly, not liking his increasing discomfiture in the face of her unbelievable self-confidence. 

Surely he wasn’t biting off more than he could chew with this, right? Right?

He looks at Sweet Pea for confirmation and the guy shrugs nonchalantly. “Man, I know there are some hot women here, but unless Cheryl has some babe tucked away that I don’t know about, then I think you’re safe.”

Jughead feels his confidence return and smiles at Sweet Pea. “I think it’s time to start this bender, ey?”

Sweet Pea and Fangs both nod in agreement. Jughead sighs; it feels like it has been too long since he has really let himself cut loose and he waves down a bartender.

The most gorgeous creature in the whole goddamn world materialises at his beck and call. Jughead feels like he has to wipe his fucking mouth and check for drool because holy hell, she’s too perfect for words. 

He can only see her torso, but it’s enough to know that she’s got the kind of body that kings would wage wars over. He feels his mouth go dry as he realises the significance of his statement and how, in this scenario, he might just be the king in question. 

And her face, _fuck… what does a man have to do to get her face literally anywhere near his person?_

It’s like a fucking spotlight has opened up in the ceiling of the White Wyrm to shine radiance down on this angelic being before him and he can’t help but wonder, _What in sweet sin is she doing here? Is she lost?_

“Can I help you?” she asks in a soft, but amused, tone of voice. He leans in to hear what she has to say, but also (if he’s being completely honest with himself) to drink in her delectable scent that has him riled up something shocking. 

She smells like sugar and vanilla, and his mouth is watering thinking of goddamn cupcakes or some else just as _tasty_ and he can’t help himself for wanting to see if her skin tastes as good as her scent.

“I dunno, are you on the menu?” He asks and as soon as the words leave his mouth he wants hang his fucking head and moan piteously, _Beautiful, I swear I am normally more charming than this!_

She giggles anyway and he finds the sound impossibly enchanting. She’s got the kind of pureness to her that makes him want to dirty her up a little, but, he concedes, tilting his head to the side, _Maybe the bartending apron can stay on while I ravish her?_

“Somewhat,” she says, her lips twitching in amusement. Jughead gets the impression that she’s teasing him and he’s undeniably into it. 

Jughead can’t help himself; she’s already ensnared him and he’s leaning his whole torso over the bar, eliminating the nuisance space between them as he gets his lips as close as possible to her perfect, glossy ones. 

“Oh yeah?” he purrs watching her pupils dilate and thrilling at the power coursing through his veins, “Tell me how, sugar.”

She bites her lip and he wants to eat her alive, starting with those pouty lips of hers. She smirks and there is a mischievous look in her eyes when she says, “Pay for a dance?”

It’s as if her words have turned him to fucking stone (yes, obviously erect, but that’s not the important part here). 

_Fuck you Cheryl goddamn Blossom, you shameless financial predator._

“Are you alright gorgeous?” She whispers, her eyes sparkling. Her gentle, warm breath caresses his lips, reawakening him. “You seem a little… stiff.”

_And now the smoking blonde babe is fucking with me! Yeah, that’s hot._

“Oh,” he hears himself say. 

_What the fuck do I say now? I want her to fucking ride me like a Harley, but fuck_ me, _I can’t let Cheryl win this._

His whole body is thrumming with a manic energy as she lifts her hands and runs her fingers through his black hair, her fingertips sending electric pulses over his body as they brush his scalp. 

He thinks he could come from her massaging his fucking head. _Jesus Christ._

“Yes to letting me grind all over you?” she whispers, her glossy, _kissable_ lips a scant inch from his own salivating mouth. He feels her words as if she’s licked his cock and he’s dying. 

“Of course,” he hears himself say smoothly. “I can’t say no to such an offer.”

But right now, he’s having an out of fucking body experience and is just watching the way he – Serpent King and Fearsome Gang Leader – is melting into a puddle of desperation for the chance to have this gorgeous blonde’s body dance him into a veritable coma of lust. 

He hears Sweet Pea make a strangled sound behind him but has no brain cells left to even feel remotely embarrassed by this whole situation. 

“Now?” Fuck, he hopes she doesn’t hear the pathetic anxiety in his words. 

Her laugh is silvery and gorgeous, just like her. Could she bring him to orgasm through laughter alone? So many scenarios to test! It could take a fucking lifetime to discover every delicious thing about her.

“On the bar?” she suggests playfully and he growls. He fucking would.

Without will power or restraint, Jughead even imagines licking maple syrup from the corner of her mouth after breakfast in bed. _Fuck!_

“You’re so gorgeous,” she purrs at him, and he’s insanely hard for finding it simultaneously adorable and hot; she’s so tiny and beautiful that someone as dangerous as him could ravage her. “After my main dance, you can whisk me away to a private room if you’d like? I’ll dance just for you… alone.”

Fuck, he knows this is her job: make guys think with their dicks. And sweet torturous hell, she is goddamn good at it, because all he can think about is her slow grinding all over him until he comes. Which, admittedly, will not take long at this rate.

She’s probably inadvertently making him insanely wealthy via her seduction skills alone, but Jughead is already driving himself mad for wanting to believe she’s wet for him and him alone.

“Whatever you say, baby.” His words come out choked and strained, like he’s trying to funnel them through his being without going to town on _his employee on his own fucking bar._

_Fuck, I will murder Cheryl._

“In the meantime,” she says, her breath ghosting his mouth and he’s not really paying attention, too attuned to the feel of her hands in his hair and her intoxicating proximity. “What can I get you?”

Jughead, thankfully, regains his wits enough to say; “I don’t think anything could slake my thirst like a taste of you would.”

She lets out a breathy moan and he watches in abject vindication as her eyelashes flutter softly against her cheek. He has also been throbbing in his jeans all this time, but what is time when he can just stare at her forever?

 _Look at me, Cheryl!_ He wants to yell, _I’m seducing a stripper!_

“Do you think just one taste is going to solve your problems?” she says cheekily and in this singular moment he thinks he will never get enough of her.

He laughs because she has him pegged. “No; you’re definitely too addictive to stop at just one taste.”

She licks her lips and he’s crazy for wanting to trace that exact path with his own tongue and then he’s dreaming of those moistened lips wrapped around his dick and he’s _losing it over a fucking woman!_

“What’s your name, baby?” he purrs and he is pleased at the tenor in his voice because it sounds like he finally has control over his fucking libido.

Her green eyes alight on his own and he’s helplessly lost in her, drowning in this succubus that appeared out of fucking nowhere and sent him into an abyss of desire.

“My name is Princess,” she says and he’s already imagining himself buried up to the hilt inside her, stroking that long golden hair and crooning her stage name as he drives her to the edge. 

But Jughead wants her real name, because he needs to fucking imprint it on his soul.

“And my name is King,” he croons and watches her eyes widen slightly. “But what’s your real name, Princess?”

She looks away shyly and he wonders how she’s going to survive dancing on the main stage of the White Wyrm is she’s demure about this, but _why the fuck do I want to lick her mouth? What the fuck is wrong with me?_

“Betty,” she whispers so softly he has to still his entire being to capture it. He takes her name and holds it in his heart.

_Betty…_

“What’s yours?” 

He doesn’t want her to run scared upon knowing who he is, so he hesitates slightly and decides to use his given name. “Forsythe.”

“Mmm,” she hums and he’s drunk on her sounds already. 

_Just use your mouth in whatever way you want in my immediately vicinity, Betty. I will take what I can get._

“Forsythe,” Betty whispers at him and he’s never thought of his name as _erotic_ before, but there’s a feeling deep inside of him that is obscuring reality and her convinces himself that her merely whispering his name will get him off, no worries there. “I like the way your name feels in my mouth.”

_Did I just hear that or did I make it up because I’m obscenely hard?_

Then the fucking tease says, “I wonder what the rest of you would feel like” and Jughead actually does have an out of body experience and is presently sailing on a cloud at the intersection of “sweet merciful goddess touch me” and “let me worship every fibre of your being”.

He needs her to belong to him. 

He needs her like he’s never needed anything else in his whole fucking life.

“So what can I get you?” Betty says, a small smile on her lips, “To drink?”

He hates that she clarifies her question, because his answer would have been: _You, naked and with me, completely alone._

His voice is strained (like the straining cock in his jeans) when he replies, “Whiskey. Three fingers.”

He hears her sharp intake of breath and it’s too late for him because he’s picturing sinking three of his fingers into her dripping pussy. He hopes she’s thinking about the same thing.

She swallows visibly and takes her hands from his hair. He feels bereft from her loss, wanting her back to stabilise him, to quell the insane tidal wave of _want_ he has rising inside him.

“Brand preference?” She asks softly. 

“Surprise me, Princess.”

“Coming,” she says and he misses whatever she says next because he’s picturing her coming apart on his dick.

When she hands him his drink and his cock twitches from _merely touching her hand,_ he knows he’s completely and utterly doomed.

“Hakushu eighteen, Suntory distillery,” she says, raising one eyebrow, “It tastes like the forest, has a hint of smokiness and simultaneously smooth, crisp and refreshing.”

He’s impressed with her whisky knowledge and he holds the glass up to his nose to inhale. It’s glorious, just like she described. 

“Why did you choose this one?” he asks, curiously.

She smirks and leans across the bar, lips close to his. He gets an eyeful of her cleavage and wants to dance his fingertips across her smooth skin. “That’s my favourite whisky, actually, my favourite drink of all time.”

“Well,” he says with a smirk, “Pour yourself one on me, Princess.”

She grins and him and moments later she’s back with a finger of whisky in a tumbler. She holds up her glass and clinks it against his.

He watches her hum in pleasure as she takes a sip of the pale liquid and wants her to hum like that for him. When she opens her eyes, they’re liquid with desire and he’s so ready to pull her on to the bar and let her ride him. She licks her lips and he hears a desperate noise escape him. Her breath caresses his lips when she says, “It’s how I’m imagining you taste, Forsythe.”

He chokes, thankful he hasn’t started on his drink yet. Betty smirks, blows him a kiss and walks away to serve another customer saying, “Thanks for the drink, King!”

_No! Come back!_

Sweet Pea is crying with laughter as he physically pulls Jughead off the bar. 

Jughead wasn’t aware he had practically climbed into Betty’s arms and decides he doesn’t fucking care if he’s made a fool of himself. 

She’s the Princess he’s willing to die for. 

“Dude,” Sweet Pea says, his voice low but that bastard is laughing so fucking hard in his tone. “You nearly stripped for a fucking stripper. You’ve completely lost it.”

He chokes on his _three fingers_ and hates to concede that he nearly tore off his clothes just for _merely looking at her._ Damn the whisky is delicious though; Betty has excellent taste.

“How are you going to survive her dancing on you?” Sweet Pea says, tone full of mirth, “You may as well just pay Cheryl now.”

Jughead gasps horrified at the thought of Cheryl goddamn Blossom having one up on him and he shakes his head. “No way. I can live through her grinding her tight little body all over me.”

Sweet Pea cracks up at that. “Did you even _hear_ yourself before, Jones? The moment she rocks her hips against you, you’re going to be on your knees begging her. You have totally lost your ability to control the situation.”

“I have not!” Jughead protests viciously. “I will make her want to crawl all over me, I promise you.”

“So you say, Serpent King,” Sweet Pea smirks, “But I reckon she’s like two minutes away from having you so under her thumb that you’d do her taxes or laundry just to be close enough to smell her hair or touch her stripper g-strings.”

Jughead just hears “do her” and doesn’t really concentrate beyond that. 

He wants to down the whisky all in one, but its too delicious.

_It’s how I’m imagining you taste, Forsythe._

Fuck it if he isn’t out of control already. 

~~~

Two miserable hours later, definitely not spent creepily watching Betty while she worked the bar and not snarling or clenching his fists in anger at any guy who _dared_ flirt with his woman, Betty leaves the bar to prepare for her dance.

He’s been desperate for this since they spoke, because the sooner he sees her on stage the sooner he has her in a private room… all to himself.

Yes, sweet perfection, thy name is Betty.

“You need to chill, man. I can feel your tension from here,” Sweet Pea points out and Jughead flips him the bird. “Have you been hard this whole time?”

“Fuck off Sweet,” Jughead says, trying to throw the erection bloodhound off the fucking stench of his raging testosterone.

Sweet Pea’s phone buzzes. He looks at it and cackles.

“Jug, check out these texts from Cheryl, read the whole thread from here.” He motions to the place on the screen.

Jughead rolls his eyes and takes the phone to read:

 **Cheryl B:** Tell Jughead I saw him drooling over Betty

 **Cheryl B:** I feel like “drool” is too common a term. More like, he tried to get Betty to absorb him into her 

**Cheryl B:** It’s like srsly dude this is your place, can you not wave your dick out on the bar? HOT LADIES ONLY

 **Sweet Pea:** LOL Right? Though I think he could have come from her just accidentally breathing on him 

**Cheryl B:** Haha! This is hands down the easiest $1k I’ve ever made

 **Cheryl B:** Who knew Jones would bet against his own dick? 

**Cheryl B:** What a sucker. I even warned him because I’m so fucking gracious like that

 **Sweet Pea:** So gracious <3

 **Cheryl B:** Jughead, if you’re reading this you filthy pervert, remember that I tried to be generous and amazing and you turned me down because you’re a cocky fucker 

**Cheryl B:** The money is merely a bonus for watching you squirm in your seat :P 

**Cheryl B:** Toodles slut, enjoy your misery <3

“Fuck Cheryl!” Jughead snarls, hating how transparent he is. 

Sweet Pea raises both eyebrows at him in amusement, “You’re so, so fucked, Jones. You want to take that blonde Princess away from here and just let her do whatever she wants to you.”

Jughead bares his teeth at Sweet Pea angrily.

“I’m not going to have her dance on me now!” Jughead lies angrily.

Sweet Pea gives him a calculating look and then smirks, saying; “Oh cool, so like, you won’t be mad if I buy ol’ virgin mate Fangs here a private dance then? Maybe she can be his first?” He turns to Fangs and says, “Princess? Yay or nay?”

“I mean, I’m cool with whatever goes,” Fangs shrugs insouciantly. “She’ll do.”

Jughead’s blood boils over. _She’ll do? Like she isn’t the most perfect thing in existence?_

“No fucking way are you _touching her_!” He hisses furiously, wanting to hit them, smash up this whole fucking bar and carry his little Princess to bed. “She’s mine, you hear? Read my fucking lips, Sweet! MINE.”

Sweet Pea smirks at him, “Yeah I figured. I mean, you devoured her with your eyes alone. You know I’m just fucking with you.”

“Fuck you,” Jughead whispers, voice ragged as his eyes fixate on the stage, dying to see Betty again.

“Nah, I’d save that for the blonde if I were you. Though at this rate, all she’s going to need to do is take her top off and you’ll just splat-,” 

“I swear to god Sweet Pea, if you finish that fucking sentence, I will tear your whole body apart piece by piece with my bare fucking hands,” Jughead snarls irately. 

He has gone completely bat shit.

“Oh my god, you _do_ want to kill me!” Sweet Pea cackles delightedly, “Cheryl predicted that you’d die for wanting to crawl all over her, but I think it’s more likely that the whole of the White Wyrm will be turned into a bloodbath if she so much as looks at someone else.”

“Shut up Sweet Pea,” Jughead growls, fists clenched tightly, “Before I silence you for good.”

Sweet Pea doubles over in laughter and Jughead rolls his eyes and looks to the stage. He sees his nemesis, taking the microphone and hisses under his breath, his whole body tense.

“Valued patrons,” Cheryl says, all red gloss and sparkles. “Let me introduce the newest member to the White Wyrm family, our very own Serpent Princess!”

He almost dies at hearing that, like she’s been marked as _his_ from the moment she stepped foot in this hallowed institution. 

Cheryl looks directly at him and grins, “I hope you enjoy the show. I know I will.”

He resists flipping her the bird before she swans off stage looking immensely pleased with herself and the chaos she has wrecked on his life. 

The music starts and the lights on stage dim. He’s holding his breath, holding everything inside himself as he watches the stage for her. 

When she emerges, he’s completely blown away.

She’s in a black silk evening gown that hugs _everything_ and leaves _nothing_ to the imagination, yet he still wants to see everything underneath, desperate to peel back those layers and lick every inch of her. 

The neckline is plunging and he can see the curve of her cleavage peaking out from beneath the fabric, and wants to run his lips over the swell of her breast. 

She slowly walks to the pole in the centre of the stage, long dress flaring behind her and he’s ready to get on his knees and give her everything of worth in his miserable life. 

_Take me, Princess,_ he silently begs her as he watches the long slit in her dress shift to expose an impossibly gorgeous and long leg. 

He’s never been a leg guy, but holy fuck, right now he just wants to rub his face along her silken skin and _kiss_ every bit of her precious, perfect body.

Ah yikes.

_Am I falling for a stripper?_

He doesn’t even try to lie to himself at this point, because there is no reason to. 

Whoever this Betty creature is, she can have all of him if she so desires.

Betty holds herself against the pole, resting against it. Her long golden hair flows behind her and one of her luscious legs is wrapped around the steel, holding her in place. The fabric creeps up her leg and his eyes track its path, helplessly wanting to run his fingers, his tongue, up her thigh in its wake.

Her green eyes find his and he is arrested, watching her as she exhales visibly on stage and runs her hand up the pole. He feels it like she’s dragging her hand along his erection and his Princess _smirks_ at him like she knows exactly what she’s doing to his libido. 

He’s fucking gagging for it and he knows he must look a hot mess right now, but even Sweet Pea’s snickering doesn’t stop the ragged breath drawn from his chest as gazes at Betty on stage. 

He watches her walk slowly around the pole, her hips swaying in time to the music as she places one stilettoed heed after another and he’s despicable for thinking her slender ankles look edible. 

_Seriously Jones, this is not Victorian England, get a grip on yourself._

But the only grip he can think about getting is on his ludicrously hard dick, but he feels like even that’s not going to alleviate the onslaught of feelings he has for the temptress that is winding herself around the pole before him.

He watches the black dress rippling behind her in the slipstream and he can see all her delicious length of legs and hears himself moan piteously and bites on his upper arm to silence the sound. Sweet Pea pats him on the shoulder in commiseration. 

When Betty wraps her legs around the pole, he’s beyond policing his thoughts and a deluge of fantasies swamp him; he’s desperate for her legs to be wrapped around _any_ part of him; his face as he drives his tongue into her, his hips as he thrusts his cock into her and his hands are gripping the chair he’s sitting on so ferociously he thinks he’s going to snap something. 

_My mind, maybe… I should just go up there and steal her from the stage…_

“Don’t do what you’re thinking,” Cheryl whispers at his ear and he nearly hits her he’s so surprised. 

He doesn’t move his line of sight from his Betty on stage, as she ascends the pole with her smooth legs, spinning. 

“I know you’re thinking of dragging her off stage and ravishing her. You can’t.” Cheryl says in an annoyingly know-it-all tone. 

He growls loudly. “Why the fuck not? I own this place.” 

He can picture Cheryl’s smirk even if he doesn’t look at her smug face. “Because even you won’t be able to afford the fucking penalty I will slap on your ass for breaking house rules and touching our dancers. Plus I’ll tase you in front of her, which is not very sexy, you know?”

“Who knows?” Sweet Pea says with a chuckle, “Betty could be into electro-play.”

Cheryl cackles, “Hmm maybe we could give her the taser?”

Jughead feels his whole body shudder and Sweet Pea jokes, “Oh? Maybe Jug here is into electro-play?”

“I don’t think she needs the taser to make him come,” Cheryl giggles.

Sweet Pea chuckles, “Or keep him in line.”

Jughead flips them both the bird over his shoulders and concentrates on Betty. 

Betty has the pole between her thighs, her ankles crossed as she leans back in an arch, the pole slowly spinning as the dress slides up her legs. He watches as she touches herself, caressing her décolleté as she runs her fingers down her sternum.

Too late he realises what she is doing with her fingers as her dress flutters off her body like discarded wings. She’s fucking transcendent. Seeing her curved body draped around the pole reveals an incredible amount of her porcelain skin and he moans aloud.

Sweet Pea is probably taking pictures or videos of him to share at Christmas lunch or some shit, but he’s beyond caring about any of that.

Betty shifts against the pole and splits her legs and at this point in the evening Jughead is just dying to be that column of metal. He’s so fucking riled up that he can feel how _hot_ the room feels and is eying off every man looking at his Princess like she’s a snack, ready to start a fucking riot if he needs. 

When Betty levers herself off the pole, she splits her legs again as she holds herself upside-down, Jughead can see the strength in her slender body. He is entranced by the way her breathing causes a rippling sensation through her breasts. 

She lowers herself down with excruciating slowness, the pole rotating as she descends, and landing on her knees on the front of the stage. She arches her spine, lowering her body until she makes direct eye contact with him and he’s gasping at the lancing pleasure that runs down his spine straight to his cock.

The song ends and Betty remains there, mere feet from him, beautifully arched and baring her neck to him like an offering. 

Necks shouldn’t be this biteable should they?

She gracefully rights herself to sit at the edge of the stage with her legs crossed. She runs her hand up her torso and brushes her hair to one side of her shoulders. He’s poised in his chair, ready to sweep her into his arms and carry her off.

“Not yet,” Cheryl threatens him. “She’s not done.”

“I’m done,” Jughead retorts. The words “with your shit, Cheryl” remain unspoken.

“She finished you off already Jug?” Sweet Pea teases and then in a mock-concerned tone, “Maybe you won’t be winning this bet after all Cheryl.”

Cheryl laughs happily, “Nah, I’ve got something up my sleeve that fucking ensures it.”

Betty slides off the stage and starts to walk through the crowd, swaying her hips in time to her next song. He watches in hideous jealousy as she leans over different men to brush her fingers over their chests or whisper something in their ears. 

Yeah, sure she’s going to fucking make him rich looking at all those happy, hard dicks, but at what fucking cost to his sanity?

Then she stands up and walks straight towards him, a slow smile blooming on her lips as she saunters in his direction. 

She stops right in front him. “My King,” she purrs softly, voice barely reaching him over the music. If he weren’t already ramrod straight then he would be jack-knifing up at this entire situation despite being in a room full of his own fucking gang members.

He wishes he could order them all to leave like a real king.

“My Princess,” he responds lightly, voice sounding gravelly to him. 

She shimmies between his legs, nudging them apart and he allows her to do whatever the fuck she wants because she’s perfect and he’s a hapless fool.

She spins around and seats herself between his legs, pressing her mostly bare ass flush against his jean-covered erection. He grits his teeth and grips the chair with every ounce of strength he has to prevent himself from grabbing her hips and rutting against her in utter mindlessness.

She rolls her hips in a circle, grinding against him, and it’s sinfully good but way too light. Yet, despite that, she could probably make him come from just this. Betty arches her back and leans against his chest on the right side, looking up into his eyes and it’s fucking _perfection._

Her green eyes are dark and she bites her lip softly as if inviting him to ravage her pretty mouth.

Betty smirks slightly and snakes her hand up around his neck to thread her fingers through the hair at the base of his head, and pushes him closer to her. 

All he has to do in this moment is fist his hands in her hair and draw her lips to his…

Betty rolls her hips and moans against him. Judging from her expression, she knows _exactly_ what she’s doing to him and he has to admit that he finds her confidence super hot.

Despite that, Jughead is pretty sure that he’s going to expire of fucking blue balls in front of the entire active Serpent population.

“Forsythe,” she whispers, her impossibly green eyes on his, “You have a lovely body… can I get my hands all over it?”

Being electrocuted wouldn’t be this fucking painful, but his Princess is going to make him fucking explode and it’s rendering him insane.

“Fuck, Princess,” he whispers raggedly, “Let me worship your divine body.”

She purrs against him and undulates her body, brushing her ass against his dick and he’s in some sort of sexual purgatory for sure, being scorched alive from this little blonde tease writhing in his lap. 

Betty puts her hands on his knees and the pressure is playfully light. She flutters her fingers up his leg and he groans into her vanilla scented hair. The closer they inch to his cock the less he cares about the eyes on him and his Princess and the more he wants her to mount him in front of every fucker in this joint. Stake his claim.

Without warning, she stands up off the chair and bends over right in front of him, ass in his face. He can see the string of her tiny underwear taper off between her perfect ass cheeks and is desperate to run his tongue along her glistening folds. 

Betty runs her hands up her gorgeous legs, back arched and flips her long blonde hair over her shoulder as she stares straight into his eyes with cheeky smile. 

In this visceral moment, nothing else exists but the depth of viridescence of her eyes. 

_Take me, fuck me, fuck with me, torture me, do me, do whatever to me…_ Jughead chants desperately in his head. 

Betty stands and shifts her weight to one leg, drawing the other one around in small circles so that her hips swirl in a mouth-watering figure eight motion until she stands in front him again. She licks her lips and smirks at his helpless groan, bending over to press his knees together. 

She inches forward, sinuously moving her hips across his knees, then his thighs until she’s grinding with impossible heat in his lap, brushing her tiny little g-string covered pussy against his achingly hard cock.

He hisses and she runs her lips up his jaw, setting his skin on fire with her torturous, feather-light kisses. 

“Forsythe,” she hums in his ear, her humid breath caresses his entire being, “You’re so incredibly beautiful. Of course I would love your worship.”

He gasps, tensing all his muscles, locking them in place as she runs her hands over his shoulders and back and twitches her hips against him. 

_Can’t touch… Cheryl… taser… must touch Betty… fuck…_

“Betty,” he whimpers, not caring that he’s begging her, “Princess, fuck me… please.”

She arches delicately in his lap, exposing the curve of her throat and he’s definitely going to die if he doesn’t bury himself in her sweet quim.

She rolls her head around, flicking her hair in a circle before she wraps her sinfully smooth legs around him and bends backwards in the chair, her core pushing against his length, flicking her fingers out as the song finishes. 

A flood of relief courses through him when Cheryl laughs under her breath, “Go for it, you drooling mess.”

Although Jughead acknowledges that he’s so desperate at this point he’s probably going to actually _cry with need_ and Betty’s legs tighten around him as she pulls herself up. 

“Shall we find some privacy?” she says softly, eyes molten with desire and he dreams that it’s all for him forever. “Or do you want to worship me here?”

She’s joking, but at literally any other time he might take her up on her offer. 

Right now, he wants her all to himself. 

He can’t think of anything to say that’s not going to send him off a cliff, so he just stands on adrenaline-fuelled legs and grasps her ass, pulling her tightly against him. His dick is a fucking lightening rod and he can feel her heat soaking his groin as she re-wraps her legs around him. 

“Holy fuck, you are otherworldly,” he chokes out as she runs her hands under his t-shirt and touches his _naked_ skin. 

He takes her upstairs and kicks in the door to his own office, because fucked if they are going to have sex in a room that’s housed countless lap dances. He locks the door behind them. He wishes he could take her back to his place, but there no way he should be riding his motorbike under the influence of her. He’s higher than he has even been in his life, drinking in her scent, feeling her incredible body wrapped around him and her fingertips dancing across his skin.

“You’re so gorgeous,” she says, and he can’t stand how much he needs this kind of validation from her. “I’ve been wanting to lick you all over for the whole night.”

He moans piteously, his whole body on fire with need.

She brushes her lips against his, tightening her legs around him as if she wants to pull him closer to her, _in to her,_ and he’s gasping into her mouth, putty in her hands. She tastes as sweet as she smells and he’s gone for her. 

“You know,” his Princess moans against his mouth, trembling in his arms, “I’ve never had sex with someone after a dance before. It’s just you’re…”

He thinks he’s going to have to marry her because she’s so fucking perfect. 

“Oh?” he purrs, nibbling and licking at her pouty lips. Betty makes a tiny mewling noise and he’s wild for wanting her to scream for him.

“Mmm,” she hums, distractedly, tracing his abdominals, making him tense. “I feel flustered and wet just looking at you. Makes me feel crazy…”

“Betts,” he gasps, feeling her words drag him to the edge, “Princess, you’re going to have to stop talking because I am not going to get very far.”

“Let me help you with that,” she suggests and he’s all choked up as her legs slide down his ass and she stands in her stilettos. Betty guides him to the wall and positions him sideways in front of the floor length mirror. 

She kneels in front of him and his last brain cell has fucked off completely; he’s an incoherent mess in his head as she undoes his jeans, the pressure torturous as her fingers brush accidentally-on-purpose against him as she takes his cock out.

Betty hums her approval and the sound sets fire to his body.

He watches how fucking _eager_ his cock is, like him, begging for her, desperate for attention, wanting her mouth to envelop him –

_Fuuuuck…._

Betty’s whole mouth covers him in excruciating wetness; soft and pliant and she stares up at him with glazed eyes. He thought that once he left puberty it was physically impossible for him to get this insane over a blowjob, but here he is with the hottest woman alive moaning around his length like he is a fucking god. 

He runs one hand through her golden hair and his eyes flick to the mirror. The scene is pornographic; he watches Betty swallow his cock, stretching her pink lips around him, eyes fluttering closed with pleasure. He hears himself make a choking sound. Her back is arched and she’s running her fingers up the inside of his thighs and he revels in the movement of her breasts as her mouth slides down over him.

He’s gasping as she takes him deep, the head of his cock brushing the back of her throat and her _humming_ is driving him to a knife-edge. 

“Princess,” he gasps roughly, “Fuck -,”

Her eyes sparkle as she stares into his eyes and she hand reaches up to cup his balls and he’s coming with a roar into her sinfully hot mouth. 

There’s an obscenely wet sound when she slides her off his dick, swallowing his release and licking her lips like he’s fucking ambrosia.

_Fuck, this woman is going to be my end._

He helps her up and kisses her messily, pleased to taste his musk on her, like he’s marked her as his own.

“Did it take the edge off?” She whispers against him and he nibbles her lip lightly in response. She’s tugging his clothes off and he lets her strip him, desperate for her skin to be rubbed all over his. 

He’s still as stiff as a board, but he’s no longer going to explode, so that’s something. 

“You’re everything I want, so I am still riding high from being touched by you,” he confesses and loves it when she blushes. 

“Oh, you’re so delicious Forsythe,” Betty coos and he wants to prove to her how _great_ at this he is, so she never has reason to look at anyone else. She takes his hand and kisses his palm, which feels too good and then she places his hand on her breast.

He makes an intelligible sound feeling her soft, yet firm, breast under his fingertips. Betty makes these gorgeous breathy gasps as his fingers run over her nipple, circling it as it hardens under his touch. She hooks her leg around him and grinds against his hip. The bra gets ripped off pretty quickly so he can enjoy the feeling of her silky skin under his hands and she rubs herself against him, keening under his touch. 

He can feel the heat radiating from her and it desperate to have his mouth all over her. He carelessly sweeps off all the junk on his desk, then picks up his Princess, delighting in her squeal of surprise and lowers her to the table. 

He tugs off her tiny g-string without ceremony and runs his hands all over her divine, naked form. 

“Holy fuck Betts,” he says, voice breaking, “You’re so perfect it hurts to look at you.”

She gasps as his hands skate over her taut nipples and he’s throbbing again, desperate for her. He needs to adore her with his tongue before he quenches himself inside her.

He presses his lips to the smooth skin of her stomach. He drinks in the noises she makes as he laves and kisses her messily, teasing her with his tongue and lips. He wants her to beg for him at least once. When he grazes his teeth across her hipbone she lifts her hips as if offering her pussy to him.

He groans because he wants to taste her. 

Jughead licks his way along his Princess’s silky thighs, aware that’s _he’s_ panting in desperation, salivating at the thought of her quim grinding against his lips. 

Her eyes are dark and brimming with lust as she looks at him, poised over her, face between her long legs. 

“Betts,” he whispers, breathing hotly over her sensitive skin. She keens, pressing her thighs against his cheeks and he fucking loves this like he never has before.

Oh, to spend an eternity between Betty’s legs. 

He kisses her clit, because she’s beautiful and he _needs_ her to know that she’s precious.

She bucks her hips against him and he chuckles, weaving his hands under her ass and hips to stabilise her. He lowers his lips to her kissing her softly, flicking his tongue out to brush maddeningly against her clit. The scent of her arousal is making him crazy, he wants to carry his heady feeling and taste with him always and he licks her again with the flat of his tongue. 

His Princess cries out and clutches at his hair, tugging on his locks. The pricks of pain in his scalp illustrate the intensity of pleasure he elicits in Betty, and her breathy little gasps are driving him spare. 

He sucks on her clit softly and she mewls loudly, pressing her glistening quim towards his face. He’s gone for the singular feeling of her whole body thrumming in pleasure at the touch of his lips.

He sucks her again and she grasps his hair, twisting it between her fingers, writhing under him, her silky thighs brushing his face and she jaggedly whispers his name “Forsythe” causing him to moan against her as she comes with a cry. 

She’s panting, but he’s not done worshiping her sweet little body and slowly, gently traces his tongue down her folds, lapping at the pooling moisture before he presses his tongue inside her.

Betty cries out, desperately, “Please!” 

He’s fucking gone for her.

He feels her quim tremble around his tongue from the aftershock of the previous orgasm and the whole thing makes him feel powerful: her increasingly high-pitched sounds, the gasping cries of his name that are laced with need, and the taste and feel of her around him, clenching at him. 

He pushes his tongue into her wetness, driving her up again and she rocks her hips against his face, her juices dripping down his chin as she comes again, screaming loudly. 

He flicks his tongue in response to her fluttering walls and is now beyond fucking ragingly desperate to have this exact feeling on his cock. Betty makes a breathy sound as he pulls his tongue from her pussy. 

“Oh wow,” she gasps and he can see how glazed her eyes look from his prone position. He watches her whole body tense in anticipation as his eyes meet hers. “You’re incredible at that!”

Jughead feels a warm glow of heat suffuse his body and leans over her to capture her lips in a searing kiss. “It’s all for you, because you’re so addictive, as predicted,” he promises and she hums against him, eyes darkening with arousal. 

A tilt of her hips has her brushing the head of his cock with her dripping pussy and he hisses at the contact. “Fuck, Princess.”

She presses her hips forward and slides herself with excruciating slowness over the head of his throbbing cock. He bows his head at the sheer pleasure of being inside her, having been insane for this all night. 

So he does what he first thought of, pressing into her tight pussy, stroking her hair and whispering, “Princess; you’re mine.”

She makes a trembling moaning sound and squirms under him, driving him wild. When he’s all the way inside of her, he brushes her hair from her face and kisses her beautiful mouth. 

“Be mine,” he demands, but his voice is ragged and breathy and he’s dying for her to agree.

“Of course,” she gasps, rolling her hips up to meet his and he loses it, levering out of her and driving back into her hot quim with intensity, loving the way she tilts to meet his every move, her nails digging into his forearms. 

He hears his animalistic groans as he slides in and out of her scorching wetness, burying himself into her up to the hilt. She’s quivering around him and he wants to watch her come undone with her on top. 

Jughead lifts her gently off the desk and she moans in his ear, “Forsythe, I’m yours” and he may as well be in heaven for how fucking exquisite this feels. He spins them around and sits on the desk, lying back to stare up into her perfectly green eyes.

She smirks and rakes her fingernails lightly down his chest and he bucks his hips, thrusting further into her. She moans, eyelashes fluttering and he’s obsessed with how amazing she is.

“Ride me, Princess,” he moans helplessly staring at her perfect breasts trembling above him as she rolls her hips against him.

She’s an erotic goddess and the way she stares at him makes him feel invincible. 

Jughead would give his Princess anything to let him keep this superb feeling of liquid heat that engulfs him and he thrusts up, rewarded when she moans and grasps his hands, forcing him to pinch her nipples.

Betty is moving erratically on him now, her whole body shuddering as she undulates her hips, sliding over his dick and he’s whispering to her, telling her she’s everything and that he’ll never need anything but her. 

She flushes at his words and bites her lip as he thrusts into her with desperation. Her eyes are glazed and he’s a fucking king for bringing forth these sensations in her and she gasps, “Jughead, I-,”

He feels her pussy grasp at him, clamping down hard as she trembles on him, keening helplessly as she comes apart on his cock. She sucks him deeper as her walls ripple around his length and he’s buried up to the hilt in her, hands on her perfect breasts and watching her moan and twitch from the aftershocks of her orgasm, milking his cock, dragging him to the edge.

When he comes, he can feel it everywhere. It’s a release that levels his very being, leaving him emotional, wrecked and fucking _perfect._ In that moment of sweet divinity, he has nothing else that he needs, because he has it all.

Betty curls over him and kisses him lazily, both of them still panting from their intense orgasm. 

“Juggie,” she whispers against his lips, licking the corner of his mouth softly, “You’re perfect.”

He hums in pleasure at her words before he realises what she just said.

He runs his hands anxiously through her hair, tilting her face so that she looks into his eyes when he asks her his question. “You knew who I was this whole time? That I’m Serpent King Jughead Jones who’s a wild, arrogant fuck and cares naught for anyone?”

Betty smiles at him, and it’s so sweet it breaks his heart. “Of course I know who you are, Jughead. But when you told me your real name, I thought that was you telling me you wanted to show me a different side of yourself.”

His whole body freezes at the exactness of her words. He clears his throat. “Betty, you’re right. I do want to be different with you. You’re special.”

She sighs softly and threads her fingers through his hair, pulling him into an impossibly soft kiss and (of course) gets him all riled up again. 

“I think you’re beautiful Jughead Jones, inside and out.” Her green eyes sparkle with sincerity. 

He groans against her lips. “Ahh my Princess, you’re perfect.”

She shivers against him and sighs, “It’s my pleasure to be yours.” She flexes her fingers in his hair and continues, “As long as I have bragging rights on telling everyone that the fearless Serpent King is mine.”

Her words cause his whole being to radiate joy. The thought of her shouting from the rooftops that she’s claimed him is some inebriating fantasy. “Fuck, Princess, I’ll have it tattooed all over my body if that’s what you want.”

She giggles, breath caressing his lips. “You’re mine. You as Forsythe and you as Jughead Jones.”

“Mind, body and soul,” he promises, “It’s all yours.”

They lie on his desk for a few moments, Jughead’s entire world reforming with her at the focal point; his guiding light, his north star. 

“Do you want to get breakfast with me?” he asks softly, pressing kisses against the sensitive spot under her ear. 

“Mmm, yes that sounds delightful,” she purrs. “But what place is going to be open at four in the morning?”

He winces when he says, “My place?”

“Perfect,” she sighs longingly, “Take me there!”

She groans a little as he slides out of her and he’s grateful he had the foresight to have a box of tissues in this room as they giggle and move around each other trying to clean off bodily fluids and get dressed. Jughead offers her his Serpent jacket (“For the Serpent Princess”) to cover her a little as they creep downstairs. 

Cheryl and her staff are in the process of locking up. When she sees him, her lips curve into a shark-like grin. “Pay up, Jones!” She insists. 

Jughead pulls out his wallet and hands her the cash he withdrew earlier in the night when he had finally accepted he was destined to fall helplessly into Betty.

Betty cocks her head, hand on his chest and says, “Geez, what bet did you lose?”

Jughead waves his arm and kisses her adorably scrunched nose. “No Princess, you got it wrong. I won the bet.”

Cheryl looks back and forth between him and Betty with a knowing smile. 

“You know Cheryl,” Jughead says placidly, arms still around his Princess. “If I had to go back in time and redo this, I think I would still have let it eventuate in the same way.”

He looks down into Betty’s shining green eyes and feels a powerful, heady emotion of which he didn’t know he was capable blooming inside him: _love._

“After all, I am infinitely better off now.”

The smile Betty gives him makes his heart soar.

**Author's Note:**

> Next week or so you’ll have idiots in love stripper!bughead. Any other prompts welcome, otherwise I am hanging up the _Pleaser_ shoes for a while to go back to my lovely, torturous slow burns lol.


End file.
